


As the Summers Die

by starfleetdicks



Series: McSpirkHolidayFest Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Mother's Day, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6792853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks/pseuds/starfleetdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“On Terra, today is a special day honoring maternal figures.” The elder put his teacup down, laying a hand on the table.  </p><p>“Yes,” Spock answered. “I remember from my time in the academy. It was a coincidence we came to New Vulcan in time to observe it. I have left our mother flowers. Will you do the same?” </p><p> </p><p>A Mother's Day McSpirk fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Summers Die

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Mother's Day prompt at the [mcspirkholidayfest](http://mcspirkholidayfest.tumblr.com/) event on tumblr!
> 
> Title taken from Lewis Carroll's _Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There_.

Spock touched the rounded side of the raised IDIC symbol on the monument. The Va’Pak memorial was modest. It did not tower, did not take up overwhelming space, did not list the six billion lost. Its only distinguishable characteristics, beyond the symbol, were the Vulcan words for “a memorial to all those lost in The Immeasurable Loss” and the coordinates for the void where Vulcan once thrived. 

“This is to be the final resting place of her memory, amid the people and planet she came to call home.” Sarek’s voice did not startle Spock but he removed his hand regardless. This was not the planet Amanda had called home but it was clear what his father meant. “Stonn designed and carved this memorial. He has excelled in his studies and expanded into more fields.”

“T’Pring has secured herself a successful match.” Spock did not remember Stonn fondly though logically he knew the Vulcan had matured. Stonn was no longer the schoolyard bully. Yet Spock could only remember the taste of blood in his mouth and Stonn’s disappointment that it was not red. 

Sarek did not frown but, when Spock finally turned toward him, it was a near thing. “We have all suffered, my child.” Among those lost had been members of both Stonn and T’Pring’s families. There was not a Vulcan untouched by the tragedy. It did not take the sting out of T’Pring’s formal letter. _Our marriage promise will be dissolved by the elders. I have allowed Stonn to court me in your absence. In the wake of Va’Pak, I may choose my mate. This is my choice. Do not reply to this correspondance. It is merely courtesy that I inform you for the sake of our families’ continued goodwill._ “Would you have really found happiness in a marriage arranged before your successful gestation? In leaving your career to secure our new colony and population?” Sarek folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes. There was always a chill in New Vulcan’s air. Its sun did not have a twin. 

Even Spock felt cold here, despite the _Enterprise_ ’s constant chill to fit the needs of the majority. The _Enterprise_ had always been an exception to Spock’s needs. Perhaps because the ship gave him so much in return for its few inconveniences. He thought of its crew, of Kirk and McCoy. Spock remembered the warmth of their bed this morning, their mingled scents, their sleepy morning kisses. No, he would not have found happiness with T’Pring. New Vulcan might never feel like home but the _Enterprise_ did. 

“I take your silence as answer. Your mother was always proud of your choices. This path would not displease her. However, be constructive in your grief. Do not let it consume you or stagnate necessary progress. Now,” Sarek finished, “leave your flowers and go to your elder. Some tea will do you well.”

Spock left a bouquet of golden suncups just in front of the memorial. 

The elder’s home held heat like a Terran sauna. Spock sat with his back to the sparse and small living area. There were no mementos of a long life lived, no Vulcan artifacts, no Starfleet memorabilia. It was nothing like his own rooms on the _Enterprise_ where countless, now priceless, artifacts were stored. Even Kirk’s quarters had holographic photos of his family, vintage old world Terran books, and now the hallmarks of McCoy and Spock’s constant stay. His elder’s home felt too empty. 

“Should I bring you items from my quarters?”

“Hm?” His elder hummed, placing steaming cups on either side of the table and sliding into his own seat with a groan. 

“Your home... There is no decoration.” 

“It has not been of much concern but thank you. Given a few more months on New Vulcan, I am sure I will accumulate material memories once again. It is better not to be reminded of the world I was taken from,” the elder Spock replied with no hint of sadness. He sipped his green tea, regarding Spock with a soft smile. 

Spock stared down at his own cup. 

The elder spoke only after a lengthy silence. “My fondest memory of our mother was her obsession with poetry. Because of her, I too have developed a soft spot for it. I once had a library of Terran printed books gifted from my Jim. Later, in my timeline, she became interested in Golic poetry as well. She would spend countless hours translating ancient poems into Standard. She would always sit on the balcony to look upon the mountain ranges while she worked.”

“I remember the first time I saw her bleed,” Spock followed cautiously, thinking back. It was the first unbidden memory, not so sweet and gentle as his elder’s. Amanda had always been a strong-willed woman, a warrior to rival ancient Vulcans when provoked. She broke the skin over her knuckles on the cheekbone of a male Vulcan insulting Spock. “I spent the ride home in silence, wondering if my blood was that same deep red and smelled of copper.” 

“She made hideous sweaters, as well.”

Spock could not hide a small smile at that. It was safe to allow his emotional impulses here. His mother would have encouraged it. “She did. I wear them still.” Nyota had once told him the sweaters were cute. Kirk, in contrast, always giggled for the first hour Spock would wear one. “She would always sneak Sybok a book about Terran philosophy and emotional development,” Spock confided. He still had not revealed that knowledge to Sarek. His father still did not speak on Sybok, despite Va’Pak. Sybok had sent word to Spock instead from his newest planet. Now, he lived on a proto-Vulcan world and monitored their development for Starfleet. Sarek’s sons seemed destined for the Fleet, whether as officers or civilians. 

“On Terra, today is a special day honoring maternal figures.” The elder put his teacup down, laying a hand on the table. 

“Yes,” Spock answered. “I remember from my time in the academy. It was a coincidence we came to New Vulcan in time to observe it. I have left our mother flowers. Will you do the same?” 

“There are other ways to honor her. I will do them when you have departed. More importantly, have you approached your bondmates about their own observances? Jim does not speak with his own mother in this timeline, correct? And what of Leonard’s mother?”

Spock finished his tea, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Kirk does not speak with Winona often, no. They have a strained relationship that has yet to improve. I was told he would speak instead with his brother’s wife today. McCoy’s mother still resides on Terra. It is my understanding that an arrangement was made for a special delivery today. He will likely call her later as well.” 

The elder Spock nodded, searching Spock’s eyes. “You have suffered greatly, that is no secret. More so than even I have. In my timeline, our mother lived a long, enviable life. Sarek gained another wife after her, another maternal figure I came to love. She still lives as well. Of course, George and Winona in my time lived quite long as well. I met Scarlet McCoy only once but she was a force all her own. It was clear where Leonard inherited his temper from,” he smiled fondly, no doubt thinking on his own McCoy. “In this timeline, your sorrow is not something you must endure alone. There are many around you in hard circumstances. Let them comfort you, young one. There is still so much to be thankful for. Our mother would want you to think on your happiness instead of your pain.”

When Spock returned to the captain’s quarters, Kirk was at his desk and McCoy was draped sideways in a chair nearby. He watched from the doorway for a heartbeat before going to them. “I visited my mother. The monument is... nice.” 

McCoy stood first while Kirk only glanced up to smile at Spock. “You leave flowers, darlin’?” McCoy dropped his PADD on the desk before wrapping his arms around Spock. Spock nodded, burying his face into McCoy’s neck and breathing deeply. “Great. Missed you. Mama says to tell you hi and that you better be ready to visit next time we’re close to Earth.”

“Yes, Leonard,” he muttered obediently. 

They held each other quietly for a few minutes, McCoy rubbing circles into his back. 

Kirk leaned back with a sigh, cracking his neck. “Okay. Reports done. My shore leave can now officially begin.” He hurried from behind his desk, throwing his arms around Spock and McCoy. “As captain, I demand cuddles in my bed to start us off.” Kirk quickly untangled himself from the hug, throwing his command gold on the floor and wriggling free of his boots and pants. “No pants allowed!” He shouted from the bedroom. 

“Ridiculous,” McCoy tsked but hurried after nonetheless, changing into his own loungewear. 

Spock followed last, crawling into the center of the bed immediately after stripping down. Kirk was next to him first, curling in against his side and rubbing a hand over his chest. McCoy came more slowly, sitting up next to him to stroke his hair. No one spoke but it did not matter. Their emotions sang through their points of contact. Affection thrummed from McCoy, quiet sorrow from Kirk. 

“My mother...” Spock began, uncertain how to phrase his thoughts. Both his mates stilled. “I think she would have been proud of my choices. Of my bond with you both.”

McCoy cleared his throat, pushing his hand through Spock’s hair again to hold his bangs back while he kissed his forehead. “Your mama would’ve been proud of you no matter what. But I appreciate the idea.”

Kirk hid a smile against Spock’s pectoral. “You think she’d be proud of the mess we made of Spock’s pon farr?” 

“Don’t be an infant, Jimmy.”

“Come on, Bones, why can’t you take a joke?”

“Maybe if you had any good ones...”

Spock settled a hand low on Kirk’s back to stop him from arguing further with McCoy. “I am thankful beyond words for you both. I love you,” he said, holding both hands up with pointer and middle fingers extended together. Kirk and McCoy immediately reached to touch their own against his. 

“I guess you’re pretty okay.” Kirk winked.

McCoy added, “for crazy green-blooded hobgoblin.”


End file.
